


I'll Catch You

by Headfulloffantasies



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Demon, Demons, Eden - Freeform, Fallen Angel, Falling with a capital F, Garden of Eden, Many Time Periods, Post-Apocalypse, Theological Debate, angel - Freeform, apoca-wasn't, aziraphale and crowley - Freeform, thinking about falling, time jumps, wine drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 09:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19943839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Headfulloffantasies/pseuds/Headfulloffantasies
Summary: Aziraphale thinks about Falling





	I'll Catch You

What does it feel like to fall? It’s the question Aziraphale has been itching to ask since he first laid eyes on Crowley. 

In the Garden it was a question loaded with fear. What if Aziraphale had done wrong, in giving away his flaming sword? How could an angel dare to defy God and not expect to be smote? His wings had shivered in anticipation of the snowy white burning to ash black.

In Ancient Rome, Aziraphale had wandered into a drunken haze with Crowley. The demon’s yellow eyes flashed, reminding Aziraphale who and what he was carousing with.   
“Did it hurt?” He asked.   
Crowley didn’t notice, tipping the empty bottle over his cup and miracling it full. 

After the apoca-wasn’t, Aziraphale lives in fear. He flinches when the bell over the door rings, remembering Sandalphon and Uriel dragging Crowley away wearing Aziraphale’s face. The phantom flames of hellfire lick at his heels. He can’t count himself one of Heaven’s angels anymore, he’s come to terms with that. But what now? If he’s not an angel, surely Falling is in the cards for him.  
“Angel, you’re brooding.” Crowley is draped over Aziraphale’s reading chair, legs dangling over an armrest like a heathen.  
“Hm? Yes dear.”  
Crowley frowns. “You’re not listening.”  
“Mmhm.”  
“Your hair is on fire.”  
“That’s nice.” Aziraphale says, his focus on the window, where a potential customer is reading the hours posted on the bookshop door. Maybe he can miracle the man into deciding to go out for ice cream instead. Better not. Heaven might be watching his miracles. They might decide he should Fall if he’s a drain on resources.   
“Angel,” Crowley’s voice brings Aziraphale back. “You’re crushing that poor book.”  
The spine of a first edition of Boccaccio’s Decameron buckles under Aziraphale’s grip. He gasps and strokes it in apology.   
“You’ve been jumpy for a while, Angel. What’s wrong?” Crowley doesn’t get up, but he does sit at less of a lounge, leaning forward.  
The fear tugs at Aziraphale’s gut. Some days he can’t even look at Crowley. How can he keep fraternizing with the enemy when he’s already in Heaven’s bad books? And yet, sometimes he can’t keep his eyes off Crowley. Aziraphale studies him from the corner of his eye. Thinking to himself, if that’s what it’s like to Fall, maybe it won’t be so bad.   
He’s so confused. Aziraphale feels like a kettle, all this tension boiling in him. If he leaves the heat on too long he’s going to scream. He can’t scream, he won’t let himself.   
He whispers, “What did it feel like to Fall?”  
Crowley’s eyebrows crawl up to his hairline. “Is that what you’re worried about, Angel? Listen, we showed them with the old switcheroo. Heaven and Hell will avoid us for a few centuries, and by then, they’ll have forgotten us.”  
Aziraphale stays silent, turning the ruined book over and over in his hands.  
“Angel,” Crowley says quietly. It’s the quiet that catches Aziraphale’s attention. When Crowley is loud he’s being dramatic. When the demon is quiet, he’s sincere.  
“It felt like fire.” Aziraphale’s gaze snaps to Crowley. The demon tips his head back, avoiding Aziraphale’s shocked look.”One moment I was plucking my harp, or what have you, and the next…” he trails off. “It was like the ground fell out from under me. I spread my wings, but I kept falling. I fell so fast I was a comet, burning in contact with every molecule. I didn’t have any wing left when I hit the lake.”   
Crowley shudders. “Sulfur everywhere. Up my nose, burning my throat. A thousand bodies crashing into me, crushing me further under the waves. We were drowning together. Everyone panicked, no one knew what happened. I think that’s how the hierarchy of Hell got established. The first to crawl out of the lake got the highest position. The first to shove everyone else aside.”  
Aziraphale is breathless.   
Crowley finally looks at him, gazing over the top of his glasses, yellow and black striking Aziraphale. “It hurt, Angel. But that wasn’t the worst part. Regrowing my wings hurt more than anything. Every feather growing back black.” Crowley swallows. “I kept plucking them out. Waiting for them to grow back white. Hoping.”   
He sighs, a deep body and soul exhale. “I don’t hope anymore.”  
Aziraphale muses, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I Fell and you were Redeemed.”   
“No it wouldn’t be,” Crowley growls. The venom startles Aziraphale. “Don’t you think that again. You’re not going to Fall. So drink your tea and stop worrying.”


End file.
